jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “In the City”

25 Nov 2016

tutoring on the southside


identities defined by society
broadcasted on media
country folks uninterested
understanding why children
struggle with reading or arithmetic

I was sitting in their house
playing mario brothers
and so many people
walked on by

who’s your white friend
someone asked my girlfriend
and I pretended not to hear
even though there was nothing
wrong with my spanglish

you know I told her
I’d never been on this side of
nineteenth street before
but I feel just as safe here
as I do anywhere else



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
21 Nov 2016
3 Comments

going hungry


I lay perfectly still on a fold-out cot
breathing shallowly
staring at a yellow light bulb
screwed into the ceiling

my hallucinations seem as real as flattened
homes in once peaceful neighborhoods
as sickening as makeshift hospitals
targeted and destroyed
as frightening as displaced little ones roaming
buckled streets inside urban war zones

exhausted and in a cold sweat
I’m visited by an attendant who takes my pulse
patting my forehead with a damp paper towel

she encourages me take a sip of water
my lips cracked and thin and stinging when
pressed against the thick glass

she rises to her feet and crosses her arms
looking at the black and white footage
streaming from the television screen

she picks up the tray of untouched food
and walks away
shaking her head like she always does



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , ,
06 Nov 2016
2 Comments

looking past the glass


windows cut into stone walls
lining brick-laid streets
encasing faceless mannequins
watching the world spin by

some sitting on bar stools
others standing in pose
modeling teacups or tumblers
elbows rising and falling in time

outsiders dare not look inside
lest they become mesmerized
lured into a complacent hold
baring nothing but skin and bone



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , ,
04 Nov 2016
7 Comments

precious declarations


I don’t belong here in this place where ordinary men
walk beside bearded men on a mission
to save the world from unrighteousness

I emptied my pockets
to show them I had nothing to offer
and then I pointed to a vaulted door
where I said the world’s fortune can be found
as long as they can handwrite a note
and strap themselves with explosives

down the street they imploded a highrise
and now once extraordinary humans crawl on
hands and knees searching through the rubble
for something that isn’t there

most days I just sit on a park bench
and marvel at the keys I’ve collected
showing my shadowless friends
how this one used to start my car
how this one once lowered the drawbridge
and how this one (in conjunction with the guard key)
unlocks a strongbox safekeeping the world’s
most precious declarations



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , ,
30 Oct 2016
6 Comments

outside these city walls


I was thinking about changing things up
by rising out of bed without an agenda
hitting the streets on steel tipped boots
marching alongside a new kind of drummer

they blocked off the old holiday parade route
days before dismantled tanks rolled in
armless soldiers handing out ruby red grapefruits
and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies

I walked alongside millions of newfound friends
all drawn to this place by an unknown star
embracing change with song and dance
(while outside these city walls)
stockpiles of old ideas burned day and night



october two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , ,
24 Oct 2016
3 Comments

as I turn off the light


the sun rises in the east
and there is no place to escape

time chases me in my sleep
forcing me into places I would
never dare enter otherwise

the sun dangling over my shoulder
I’m reminded I could be facing
something much worse
than my own shadow

the city streets are cold tonight
interminable winds whistling
past streetlights that never dim



october two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , ,
19 Oct 2016
7 Comments

preparing for peace


pressure cookers
left on roadside
explode harmlessly
at midday rush hour

the prince is tied up
having his hair done
the news at nine
report nothing

stray dogs and cats
wander the streets
window shopping
after sundown

the city is silent
bracing for the calm
children catching
fireflies in glass jars

the bottle is empty
the magic is gone
the king is all but dead
long live the queen



october two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , ,
05 Oct 2016
14 Comments

midnight intolerance


some kids came by the house
on the fourth of july weekend
looking for signatures

they explained that hornets
had been moving into the neighborhood
and they’ll be damned
if they’re going to sit idly by
before a few turned into a swarm

I told them I wasn’t going to sign
their damn petition
that I liked the hornets
that I even kept some out back

I locked the screen door
and walked away
ignoring their name-calling
concerned how my outer walls
just became prime targets for
midnight egg throwing practice



october two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , ,
27 Sep 2016
4 Comments

angel in my oldsmobile


sometimes my inner workings hesitate
like a sixty-nine cutlass

in the back seat my hopeful angel
looks out half-opened window
elbows on arm rest
chin supported by hands

eyes cast upwards she interprets
unspoken words
as they race past silently
like high-flying clouds

the night sky indicates
low temperatures are inevitable

but who’s to say when autumn
shall begin and end

there comes a point where nobody
really cares when the dead of winter
has finally set in

and as long as I have my angel
inside my winterized oldsmobile
I’m bound to witness
the ides of march again



september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , ,
25 Sep 2016
9 Comments

into thin air


she sat reading a book
never looking up as the train
raced and abruptly stopped time and again
as if it had some place it needed to be

she reminded me of a morning star
transiting along smog filled clouds
maybe noticeable but memorable
slowly becoming consumed by a rising sun

I raced and stopped like the train
attempting to get closer
drawn to discover the title of the book
or why she always disappears



september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , ,
19 Sep 2016
4 Comments

six thousand years and counting


as it turned out he was alive and well
resurfacing somewhere in carolina
taking up sun and counting the years

he made sure the money didn’t follow
redeployed somewhere offshore
far away from oil rigs and earthquakes

after wearing the crown all these years
incognito pro tem seemed fitting

walking the dog and swiping debit card
who the hell would have guessed

all the while cities continued to grow
melting pots boiling impatiently
fueled by remotely controlled triggers



september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , , ,
13 Sep 2016
6 Comments

starving graffiti artist


downtown railroad cars
sit still in line like cows
waiting to get branded

cigarettes cost too much
but not a quart of malt liquor
or can of yellow spray paint

getting good day’s sleep
is critical for optimal performance
when working graveyard shifts

nomad apostles carry flashlights
and lighters and waxing moons
calling out on occasion to look out

not opposed to taking new requests
or collaborating on a tanker
there’s a preference for going solo
especially on kansas city southern




september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , , ,
04 Sep 2016
8 Comments

down but not out


sirens atop wooden poles
wail high and low throughout the city
slight breezes unable to move
tattered flags and worn out windsocks

beneath the dome dark and bloated
clouds float slowly and unnoticed
moving plainly like zeppelins hunting for
landmines on easter sunday

below ground microcosms evolve
instinctively and haphazardly
struggling to survive differently
afraid to breach the surface
lest there be light

like an unattended candle
nothing is capable of turning off
the sirens
and eventually
they will burn out all on their own


september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , ,
16 Aug 2016
5 Comments

His new best drinking buddy


It just blows my mind
how the world is totally out of control
he said pointing at the television
at the fires and floods
and children bearing arms
not to mention the ridiculous
landscape of American politics

Hey Billie
set us up with another round he said
and Billie poured two draws of PBR
and two shots of Hawkeye Whiskey

Don’t worry buddy I got this one again
he said pushing his dollars away
but as I was saying
there’s not any more violence today
than there’s been in the past
it’s just that more people
are now in the know

Hey Billie can you turn the station
on that damn thing
there’s gotta be something better on
than the national news

He put his arm around his newfound friend
who didn’t have much to say
but he sure had a big ass grin on his face
when Billie was told to line them up again


august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged ,
02 Aug 2016
11 Comments

children without smartphones


homeless little ones
fill the city square
walking aimlessly and unsupervised
staring into the palms of their hands
slaying pokémon dragons with
whatever imagination
they can get their hands on


august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , , , , ,
23 Jul 2016
5 Comments

It’s all about the money


smile and play the tambourine little girl
the man said
and the little girl shook the tambourine

every fourth beat she struck it
against her palm

the streets were filled with foreigners
and many businessmen attracted
to the darkened rooms
barely lit by neon lights

outside the little girl shakes the tambourine
her soul sisters inside
in the darkened rooms
filled with neon lights

the man outside standing next
to the tambourine girl
animates his voice and gestures
joyously greeting and
beckoning passersby to come inside
to rest their weary minds

meanwhile the girls inside
shake shake shake
their tarnished tambourines


This poem is in response to a blog post by Lara Trace entitled BILLIONS TRAFFICKING AND ENSLAVING “DISPOSABLE PEOPLE”

“It’s all about the money. Human trafficking is insanely profitable. If you really think about it: You can sell a kilo of Heroin once; You can sell a 13-year-old girl 20 times a night, 365 days a year.”

To read Lara Traces’s blog post and learn what you can do please click HERE


july two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , ,

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